


Take One for the Team

by musicanova



Series: Barricade Boys AUs [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Christmas Eve, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7940944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicanova/pseuds/musicanova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bahorel and Feuilly demand (honestly Courf stop being a drama queen) for everyone to have dates to their wedding, Courfeyrac reaches for his roommate, best friend and six-year crush. </p><p>It may be the biggest mistake he's ever made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take One for the Team

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jezza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jezza/gifts).



> A big happy birthday to Jeremy! Welcome to the trash club, I simultaneously take all and none of the credit. All I did was show you a movie...? I hope this is everything you want, none of this is a surprise to you since you practically birthed the idea yourself, but here it is, complete with dodgy drawings.
> 
> Happy Birthday, you're a Dancing Queen now!

 

Courfeyrac blanches, looking down at the small rectangular piece of decorated paper in his hands. 

  

Is he blanching because Bahorel and Feuilly are getting married? 

No, it's about damn time anyway. 

 

Is he blanching because damn, those hand-painted golden intricacies on the corners of the invitation are one of Feuilly's greatest works?  


No, but that is a pretty good reason. 

 

Now, is he blanching because the invitation to this particular wedding specifies that he needs to bring a date?

Yes, definitely yes, for God’s sake he thought his friends were better than this. 

 

What's the matter with going stag, huh?

Huh?

 

Okay, so yes, maybe (just maybe) he tends to have a kicked puppy look on his face the whole night if he doesn't have someone to talk to, but usually that isn't a problem because he can…

“Ferre! Combeferre! Do you have anyone to take to the wedding? You don’t, right? You’ll go with me won’t you, it’ll be fun! I’ll steal all the cutlery while you keep watch and we can see who can eat the salad the fastest and you can search for moths with your little flashlight thing and I can play 'how many times can I steal Marius's neck tie before he notices it's been missing for three hours' and it'll just be the best time of our lives!”

To which the response is a muffled “mmmfgbnm” because it is a Sunday for Pete's sake and for _once_  in Combeferre’s life he's allowed to have a sleep-in and yet here he is being shaken awake. 

"Come on, take one for the team!" Courfeyrac jumps on the boy snuggled up in bed, earning a small "oof" because Courf might be short, but that doesn't mean he isn't heavy, so say goodbye Combeferre's intestinal system because at its current state it's more or less a flat pancake now.

"I'm not getting off your stomach until you say yes," he whispers, and shit is that a bad idea because Combeferre smells like books and peppermint and grapefruit and...

"The stomach is actually protected by the ribcage so what you're squashing right now is-"

"Oh so  _now_ you answer me? Just to tell me I've got my human anatomy wrong?" Courfeyrac huffs and rolls off of the bed in one clean flip that has him on the ground in a heap, taking Combeferre's blankets with him as he goes.

Ferre gives him an exasperated smile, and sits up.

"Of course I'll go with you." 

-«•»-

The continuous thrumming of "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" (otherwise known as the "never-ending F-word", both because Combeferre likes to refrain from profanities and also because it is an infinite word that holds the poetic symbol that Ferre is well and truly, completely and forevermore,  _screwed as all heck_ ) niggles at the corner of Combeferre's mind. 

Take one for the team his arse, look at the crabby outhouse he's just gotten himself into! 

Now more so than ever, Combeferre is convinced he's a glutton for punishment, staring down at his sweaty palms and watching the light play on his skin. 

He had RSVPd to Feuilly in person just moments ago. He had said, "I'm taking Courfeyrac", and Feuilly had responded with, "well of course, who else would you be taking?" and really, did everyone already know that he was going to be that one pathetic loser who had to take his friend to the wedding?

But no, Feuilly wasn't that kind of person, which had to mean... 

_I thought I'd had enough years of practice to hide my darned-_

Combeferre can't even let himself say crush because he knows it's more than that. 

 

There's a new type of existential crisis that comes along with genuinely coming to terms with the fact that a long-standing crush is not a crush anymore. It's the kind of existential crisis that changes the "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" that pokes at your brain into a "FUFUFUFUFUFUFUFUFUFUFUFUFU" kind of toddler-like tantrum. And that paired with the realisation that your entire friendship circle thinks you're dating Courfeyrac? It's a little too much for Combeferre to handle.

-«•»-

Combeferre bursts through the door at a startling speed, and Courfeyrac almost chokes on the lollipop he's sucking on in surprise. He pulls the sweet treat out of his mouth with a pop and stares as Ferre pants at the entrance to their apartment, hands resting on his knees as he heaves oxygen into his lungs. He has half the mind to not be worried, because if it were serious he's sure Combeferre would have started talking by now, but at the same time, the speechlessness is leaving Courfeyrac a little more nervous than he'd like to admit.

Before he can ask what's wrong, Combeferre is stumbling over a "everyone thinks we're in love."

Courfeyrac drops his lollipop then, mouth snapping shut. 

"I just RSVPd to the wedding and when I said I was taking you, Feuilly said 'well of course, who else would you be taking?' and I played that over and over in my mind but it's  _Feuilly_ , Courfeyrac, he wouldn't make a stupid joke like that. He's totally serious and everyone thinks we're a couple."

Courfeyrac is still staring, completely frozen, when Combeferre finishes his elaboration on "everyone thinks we're in love", and he doesn't know what to say. He thought he'd been caught red-handed, but no, this is a whole different situation altogether. His brain grasps out in despair at a thought floating by, and Courf's mouth is open before he even knows what he's saying. 

"Well then we have to be all lovey dovey, right?" At Combeferre's confused look, Courfeyrac continues. "I mean like, we're doing this for Bahorel and Feuilly. Imagine how sad they'll be if they realise we're not actually a couple! We can't just ruin their wedding like that, it would be incredibly rude of us. We've gotta take one for the team! We'll tell them after the wedding that our entire friendship group is completely delusional and we're not dating, but. For Bahorel and Feuilly."

Courfeyrac's logic reeks of bullshit, but the two of them are just desperate enough to want a taste of what could be to even notice that it's all nonsense.

It's moments later that Combeferre finally responds. 

"So I uh, I guess we should, you know," he says. 

"Set our mission parameters?" Courfeyrac supplies. 

"Mm. Yes. That."

So Combeferre, in all his nerdy glory, opens up an excel spreadsheet to document their plan of action: what's reasonable to do (hand-holding) and what they won't be doing (kissing) and which days they have free to spend practicing their lovey dovey act. They colour code it, print it out, and stick it on the fridge, then move on with their days in an orderly fashion. 

-«•»-

Combeferre wakes up the morning of the wedding and can't believe it was just two months ago Courfeyrac decided they should start pretending to be in love. It's been incredibly painful for Combeferre, and yet at the same time so painfully easy, and Ferre despises how it doesn't affect Courfeyrac in the same way it gets to him. He shouldn't be so bitter, now he's had a taste of what life would have been like if Courfeyrac loved him back, he should be able to move on. 

But somehow, he feels it's harder now, with the knowledge that Courfeyrac would have laced their pinkies together, that Courfeyrac would have always tried to have his hand in Combeferre's back pocket when they walked, that Courfeyrac would have played with his hair in public, and not just when they were vegging out during movie night on their dingy little sofa, that Courfeyrac would have done everything Combeferre ever wanted, if they were actually together. 

He curses his trembling fingers as they do up the buttons of his shirt, and he hates how he's let it consume himself so much that he has to ask Courfeyrac do his tie for him. It's a little startling to have him standing so close when he looks that good, and the little polka dot bowtie he has on is just so  _Courfeyrac_ , and in that moment Ferre wonders to himself how exactly it was that it took him until two months ago to realise this was never just a crush. 

He swallows it down, bottles it up, and holds the door open for his best friend as they make their way to the reception. 

-«•»-

The wedding is small: contained within friends, a dabble of co-workers, and family. And most importantly, the wedding is beautiful. But if Courfeyrac's being absolutely honest, in his mind it's mostly a blur. Between the panic of pretending to be in love with Combeferre (or rather, not pretending at all) and the dawning that this is the last time they will be... like  _this_ , he's too busy to be crying over Bahorel's adorable vow that's horribly metaphorical of boxing, or screaming at the top of his lungs when the two kiss.

Who is he kidding. His mind is busy, but he'll always have time to be emotional over his friends being adorable. 

Grantaire stands for the best man's speech, and smirks at the newly-wed couple before placing two fingers in his mouth and giving a sharp whistle and dashing for the make-shift stage, sending the unaware guests into a tizzy. 

"While we get ready, I suppose I'll let you in on what's going on here. Not long ago, I was avoiding my responsibilities by searching for new music to listen to when I stumbled across this song. It was cheesy, it was cliché, it was exactly the kind of thing your average teenage girl would scream over. And yet, I sat there in my room listening to it over and over again, and it struck me as being just the perfect thing to be performing for you today. I know I'm not the only one who's thought this when I say this marriage has been a long time coming. We're all so happy for you, and without further ado, I present to you  _The Friends_ , performing-" Grantaire is nudged in the side, and he stumbles slightly to the side. "Sorry, I present to you  _Les Amis_ , performing  _Never Be Alone_ by Shawn Mendes, featuring Éponine and I on guitar, Joly on egg shaker, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac as your soloists for tonight! A round of applause for  _Les Amis_!" 

Courfeyrac readjusts the mic on its stand and grins at Feuilly and Bahorel, who watch on with matching amused faces. 

He's not ready when Grantaire starts the introduction and the chorus of his friends begin singing, he needs more time. He looks to Combeferre in panic, and finds comfort in the steady gaze he's met with.  

 _"I promise that one day I'll be around_  
_I'll keep you safe_  
_I'll keep you sound."_

Courfeyrac nods, and takes over the next line. 

 _"Right now it's pretty crazy_  
_And I don't know how to stop_  
_Or slow it down."_

Éponine's part on the guitar comes flooding through his ears, and Courf struggles to stay afloat, suddenly unaware of why he ever agreed to sing the solo when Grantaire has a much nicer voice than him. 

Oh, right. 

It was because Combeferre had taken one look at his eager face, placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him if he wanted, he would do the duet with him. 

 _"Take a piece of my heart_  
_And make it all your own_  
_So when we are apart_  
_You'll never be alone_  
_You'll never be alone."_

And Courfeyrac could cry because that harmony they had worked at and tweaked around for so long is perfect, and Bahorel and Feuilly deserve nothing less than perfect and here they are, at their freaking  _wedding_ performing that perfect harmony for them and-

 _"When you fall asleep tonight_  
_Just remember that we lay under the same stars."_

He looks straight at Combeferre, and he doesn't know when he creeped forward or even if he did, but they're already three verses from finishing the piece and Courfeyrac can't see anything but Combeferre and his perfect eyes behind his perfect glasses and since when is everything so perfect? 

 _"And take a piece of my heart_  
_And make it all your own_  
_So when we are apart_  
_You'll never be alone_  
_You'll never be alone."_

The two of them finish the song sharing a microphone, standing so close to each other, face to face, and it takes until the clapping and whistling to start for them to notice and jump apart. 

Needless to say, their lovey dovey act is a little too convincing to the point that the two have to squint at the blurry line between pretending and reality. 

It leaves a strange aching in Courfeyrac's heart that he could have done without.

-«•»-

It's all very Bahorel for the wedding to have been on Christmas Eve. Figures he would find the sappiest way to take one of Feuilly's most terrible memories and vanish it from his mind by replacing it with what is quite possibly the best night of his life, while also making his own favourite holiday ten times better.

Combeferre thinks the only problem with having a small wedding on Christmas Eve is that the after party is at Feuilly and Bahorel's apartment, and the entire place is decked out in mistletoe. 

He has a beer in his hand and he has the song they had all sung to the newly-weds hours ago still looping in his head. He's been standing under the mistletoe with Courfeyrac for eight minutes now, and he's sweating with fear but at the same time he can't deny he's a little disappointed that Courf hasn't noticed. 

That is, until Grantaire all but screams _"Mistletoe!"_ while pointing directly at them. 

"Come on wusses, don't be shy," Parnasse winks as he nudges past with Jehan on his back.

Combeferre just catches Marius utter something along the lines of "You know in all these years we've never actually seen them kiss", before Courfeyrac's gone straight for his lips with no hesitation or flustering - quite the opposite to Ferre himself - and plants one big, sloppy kiss to his lips before he pulls back. 

Once again, Ferre can't help but feel slightly disappointed. The lack of hesitation practically bellows in his face that his feelings aren't returned, and he goes back to sipping his beer. 

"Oh man, I've really gotta pee," is all Courf says before he runs away, and Combeferre knows how weak his bladder is, so he just nods and watches him leave, resolutely ignoring the weird smirk Grantaire has going on. 

He's about to move out from underneath the cursed mistletoe when he hears a blood-curdling scream come from the direction of the bathroom, and his beer is shoved into Enjolras's hand before he's even aware of what he's doing. He knows that scream well enough to know who it came from. 

"Courf? Courf! Are you alright? Do we need an ambulance? Was it a spider again?" he finds himself shouting, but when he reaches the bathroom it's a whole different situation.

He sees Courfeyrac, red to the tips of his ears and clutching at the bathroom door for his dear life, then he follows his line of sight to see a very bashful-looking Bahorel who is, even through the events,  _still_ sucking a hickey into Feuilly's neck, who at least has some semblance of embarrassment, with his head hanging low as he desperately tries to pull his clothes back on. 

It's quite the sight, and he can't blame them, considering it's honeymoon-phase time now, but he wonders if it was really that impossible for them to at least wait until the majority of their guests were gone, not while the party was in full swing. And considering the apartment only has one bathroom, Ferre also wonders why they didn't think to put their own bedroom to use. 

Nonetheless, he plucks Courfeyrac from the doorjamb and drags him out onto the balcony for some fresh air, closing the bathroom door with what he hopes is more of an apologetic smile than a grimace. 

Combeferre watches Courfeyrac slowly return to his normal skin tone patiently, hand resting on the small of his back to keep him calm. 

Courfeyrac is quivering ever so slightly, and Ferre can't tell if it's from the temperature outside, the events that he just witnessed, or something else entirely. He looks so small, leaning up against the railing of the balcony with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his foot tapping relentlessly against the concrete while he takes shaky breaths in and out. What Combeferre doesn't know is that the scream had started off as more of a squeal because  _OhMyGodOhMyGodIKissedFerre_ , which then just so happened to turn into sheer horror as Courfeyrac found two of his friends being... intimate in the bathroom.

In a moment of God-knows-what, Combeferre reaches out and runs his thumb against Courfeyrac's jaw, softly turning his head to face him. He wants to ask if he's alright, if he needs some space or more time, but despite being good at maths he miscalculates, and he finds himself in much the same position he was when he had finished singing _Never Be Alone_ at the wedding. 

And then he's going cross-eyed, because Courfeyrac's lips are back on his, but this time it's not because of the mistletoe, because he checked that while Courf had been recollecting himself. This kiss feels different but it's so much better, that as he closes his eyes his brain short-circuits and he trips over what must be an untied shoelace, and they land unceremoniously on the cold hard concrete of the balcony. Ferre thanks the lord that he had half the mind to close the curtains to the balcony after he led Courfeyrac out for some fresh air, but when he turns to look he sees a slight gap and oh, all things Holy, is that Enjolras and Cosette fist bumping with shit-eating grins on their faces? 

_Enjolras and Cosette?_

He doesn't have the time to evaluate it because even from the ground Courfeyrac is determined to continue kissing, but just before their lips meet, Combeferre pulls back just slightly, and looks his best friend straight in the eye. 

"If I gave you a piece of my heart, would you take it?" he asks. 

"I'd make it all my own," Courfeyrac smiles. 

Take one for the team his arse, he was taking this one for himself. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed that! Find me at [wintersolqiers](http://wintersolqiers.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and feel free to chat or even request something!


End file.
